concentration

I can't concentrate.
I mean I can, I just can't tell when I am going to do it. Currently this issue is the shining city on the hill of my life.
I remember a Dean Koontz book where several characters become obsessed with ideas about the moon. One, an adult male, became obsessed with the idea of purging this fixed and rooted idea from his consciousness. He tore down the shrine he had built - Dreyfuss Closes Encounters Style - to all things lunar. He carted out to the scrapheap the telescopes, books, posters, and models that he had accumulated previously with equal passion. After he had worked feverishly for hours - as his wife and family had insisted as a requisite for his participation in their lives - and then discovered that he had replaced all the shit back into the house. Triple quadruple take. Trash cans are empty. Study is overflowing again with stuff about orbits, tides, sea of tranquility, and the dark side of things. Anguish for the main guy.
I get what was scary about this. I just went through some files and found twenty writing projects and journals, and many, MANY more lists of life-changing behaviors that were written with passionate intensity, only to be dropped, lost, filed, forgotten and waylaid how many minutes after conception?
My fear is that my brain is failing. my memory worsening, my ability to cope shrinking inversely with the demands placed on me. Do I NEED someone to steer me to survive? Is risking the little time I have left to my own skewed view of things just asking for more calamity?
But I don't think that I really believe this. If I did I would be much more scared.
What I think is happening is that in the course of my dealing with my separation from my wife, I have gained a new perspective. I am able more now to see without focusing through her lens. I love my wife, and I have chosen to have no more important task than to be the partner that she needs to be in this world. To not have that ability is terrifying. The thought of her alone and scared is withering.
But I have to put on my own mask first. If I can't get through the week on my own, I won't be able to help her put her own on and get out of the damn plane. And how can I do that if I jump from the in-flight movie, to the crash instructions, to my own writing, to HIS philosophy or HER religion, to - oh yeah, putting on the oxygen masks and getting ourselves to relative safety.
I think, therefore I concentrate,
I think I can, I think I can
I know I can, I know I can
Concentrate, concentrate, concentrate!